A Burden Shared
by Ghosthack
Summary: The creation of the Flame Alchemist was a quiet, intimate affair.
1. Reveal

He felt a split second of panicked embarrassment as she shed her top, and allowed it to fall to the floor, at which point all coherent thought left him. Later, he would look back on this moment with no small amount of shame, as his first thought upon seeing the array was that it was beautiful. A true work of art, crafted by a master hand. The array was perfectly balanced, intricately detailed, expertly rendered. For but an instant, he marveled at the dedication, the skill, the steady hand required to create such a thing. Until his brain caught up with what his eyes were actually seeing, and the realization that this master work was etched into _Riza Hawkeye's flesh_ knocked the breath from his lungs. He choked on this revelation, stunned into stillness, caught between a desire to cross the distance between them, and the state of cold shock that left his feet rooted to the floor.

 _How? Why? This couldn't possibly be... He wouldn't... He_ wouldn't _._

When Riza had first offered to show him her father's research notes, Roy had imagined several scenarios in his head as they made the trek from the graveyard back to the Hawkeye home. A hidden panel in his master's study, perhaps. A thick stack of notes written in some bizarre, unpredictable code. Roy couldn't deny the slowly mounting excitement as they walked, his mind racing with possibilities. This was, after all, what he had long desired to know. The main reason he had traveled back to his master's house as quickly as he could put in for some leave time, after receiving Riza's letter about her father's failing health. Since then, absolutely nothing had transpired the way he thought it would. In the days that had passed since Master Hawkeye died quite literally in his arms, Roy had resigned himself to the fact that the secret of the flame had died with its creator, and so too had his dream. As he assisted Riza in making preparations for her father's burial, he couldn't bring himself to ask her about Master Hawkeye's work. Regardless of why he had originally come, he now felt that his sole purpose was to support his friend in her time of confused grief. He didn't really mind terribly much. Though he wished the circumstances were different, he was enjoying just being in her presence again after so long. He had missed her, after all. But when Riza revealed that her father had indeed left behind research notes of some kind, he could all but feel his dream resurrecting, just beyond his grasp. It was a good feeling, as the past few days had been extremely emotionally trying. But as the two of them had neared the dilapidated old house, Roy sensed a change in his master's daughter. Subtle, like everything about her, but Roy had learned to read her fairly well in the quiet moments the two spent in one another's company over the years. Although he couldn't quite put his finger on it, he felt a chill settle in. All the excitement and anticipation of moments before had vanished, and suddenly, Roy had absolutely no desire to see what Riza was going to show him. He had dismissed such thoughts as nerves, but now, he was beginning to think it a premonition.

Several agonizing seconds ticked by as Roy struggled to comprehend the implications of what he was seeing. When did this happen? How did he miss this? His mind screamed at him, _don't just stand there, do something! Say something!_ He opened his mouth to comply, but all he managed was a small, horrified exhalation. He stood there gaping for what felt like a small eternity. Eventually, Riza shifted uncomfortably, peering slightly over her shoulder, her expression betraying nothing of the torrent of conflicting emotions inside. His eyes caught hers briefly, and instantly the spell was broken. His body no longer immobilized, he took slow, tentative steps toward her, stopping an arm's length away. Riza returned her gaze to the floor, awaiting his examination, stalwartly refusing to regret the decision she'd made.

Up close, the array was even more perfect, and even more unsettling than it had appeared from a distance. The red lines seemed to Roy at once both graceful and angry. Magnificent and disturbing. Almost unreal. Out of some desperate need to solidify the truth of what was before him, slowly, almost reverently, he reached out a hand, hesitating a breath away from her skin, before touching his fingertips to the salamander in the center of her spine. She flinched at the contact, and Roy immediately retracted his hand, ashamed and horrified. The raised texture of the marks under his fingers spoke of an act even more depraved than he could have perceived. He recoiled from the very thought, but the truth was undeniable. This was no mere inking, although that would have been gruesome enough. These marks had been painstakingly carved into her flesh, with an impossibly sharp, precision tool. He swallowed thickly, fighting down the sudden urge to vomit. Quickly, with hands that only shook slightly, he removed his coat, and placed it over her shoulders, covering her.

With the array out of his sight, and the full implications thoroughly sunk in, a new emotion took hold of him. Pure, unadulterated anger. There would be many times in his life when Roy would lose himself to a white hot rage, seemingly harsher and more consuming each time it manifested. This was the first. At that moment, Roy Mustang wanted nothing more than to turn around, march back to the gravesite they had stood at a mere hour earlier, dig up Berthold Hawkeye's corpse, and tear it to pieces with his own hands. In an effort to quell his sudden rage, lest he lash out at Riza unfairly, he settled his hands on her shoulders, anchoring himself to reality. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he finally spoke.

"Wha… What did he do to you?" It came out as a harsh whisper, as he struggled to reign in the emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. She left his question hanging in the air between them for a few long moments, and Roy used this time to take several deep breaths in an attempt to calm himself.

Quietly, she responded, "It was my decision, Mr. Mustang." Despite everything, her voice was calm and controlled. This fact unsettled Roy perhaps even more so than her actual reply. Heart pounding almost painfully, he tightened his hands on her shoulders slightly, steeling himself.

"Riza, don't lie to me." She tensed under his hands, and he immediately regretted his choice of words. But it was all he could do to form an actual sentence at the moment.

His use of her given name had startled her as much as the underlying truth of his accusation. Quickly fighting to regain both her composure, and the confirmation that she had indeed been acting of her own free will, however little of it she had been granted, she straightened her back, raised her head slightly, and fixed her gaze at a point on the far wall. A focusing technique she would come to rely on in her later years.

"I'm not lying, Mr. Mustang," she said with conviction, although she did not turn to face him. "My father requested my help in preserving his research, and I agreed."

So that was it. Well of course she agreed, although Roy knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had no idea just what she was agreeing to until it was too late to back out. In the time that Roy had spent in the Hawkeye household, one thing was made painfully obvious to him; Riza craved her father's affection. Regrettably, Berthold Hawkeye was a man with little to no affection to spare, and what capacity for such a thing that he did posses, was lavished entirely on his alchemy research. To put it bluntly, Master Hawkeye was, for the most part, single-mindedly focused on his alchemy. Anything else, including his neglected daughter, was beneath his notice. Even focused on his own studies, Roy was non-the-less a silent witness as Riza continually bent over backwards to serve her father in every possible area. While Master Hawkeye frequently became so embroiled in his research that he forgot the time, Riza made sure dinner was cooked, dishes were washed, household chores completed. She brought her father tea during the day, and Roy will always remember the way the slightly hopeful look in her eyes would dissolve, as Master Hawkeye instructed her to set the tray on the desk, without so much as glancing in her direction. In retrospect, Roy could scarcely remember a time when Master Hawkeye spoke directly to his daughter, as opposed to at her, or even called her by name. And yet, she continued to work, ever the dutiful daughter, without so much as a complaint, even in private. Fruitlessly believing that if she could just make herself useful enough, her father would take notice. This, Roy would one day come to realize, was the foundation upon which Riza built her entire perception of her own worth.

Although Roy wasn't always around to see it, he knew she took on much more demanding tasks as well, in the absence of her father. She ran errands in town, a three mile journey away. She chopped firewood in the winter, and hunted small game in the nearby woods with an old rifle found in the attic, when money was too thin for groceries. She would climb that rickety old ladder to the roof to patch that persistently stubborn leak, time and time again. She had been doing these things most of her life, her childhood sacrificed to her father's ever fading concern for anything unrelated to his work. It came as no surprise to Roy then, that Riza would agree to just about anything her father asked of her.

Roy learned a great many things studying under Master Hawkeye. A firm foundation was laid upon which he would build his legendary alchemical abilities, good study habits were enforced, patience and persistence ingrained. All things that would serve him well in his chosen profession. Roy Mustang would forever stand by the notion that Berthold Hawkeye was the most intelligent and most skilled alchemist he had ever met. The man had a mind for alchemy that Roy was both awed and intimidated by. But as he watched his teacher hunched over his desk, day in and day out, seemingly oblivious to the state of his household, both literally and metaphorically, Roy was struck by an unsettling feeling that he couldn't quite place in his youth. Years later, he would understand that the most important thing he learned from Master Hawkeye, was what kind of man he did not want to become.

As the silence stretched on, Riza's hold on her composure began to crack. She clutched onto the lapels of Roy's coat and pulled them tightly across her chest, suddenly feeling very exposed. Still, she refused to back down. She had made her choice, although once again, it was really the only choice she could possibly make, and she was going to see it through. Regardless of the events that had lead her to this point, regardless of her feelings on the matter. Her father was dead, and she was now responsible for his legacy. These were the facts, and there was no use in bemoaning them. Repeating this thought in her mind like a mantra, she had nearly regained control of herself, when Roy's voice broke her concentration.

"I can't." His utterance was but a whisper barely heard and as such, Riza thought she must have heard him wrong. Surely he wasn't refusing her. This had been his end goal since he first came to study under her father nearly 6 years ago.

"What do you mean?" She asked, turning her head slightly, brushing her chin over the knuckles of his hand still resting on her shoulder.

"I can't," he repeated, voice catching. He cleared his throat, then continued in a much clearer voice. "I don't want it. Not… Not like this. I can't accept it. I won't. I refuse to build my career on your suffering."

Roy had long dreamed of possessing the secrets of the flame, an as yet completely unheard of form of alchemy. A form with the potential for untold power. For most of his apprenticeship under Master Hawkeye, Roy had been chasing this goal. With flame alchemy mastered, he'd be assured swift entrance into the State Alchemist program, a surefire path toward his ultimate goal, the perfect tool to make his dream of a better country a reality. Without it, Roy had to admit that his path in life wasn't quite so set. He'd still do everything in his power to achieve his dream, Roy Mustang was never a quitter. But he'd spent so much time envisioning how he could change the world with a new form of alchemy, that he regarded the thought of rethinking his methods with a bitterness born of youthful pride. Three years and a war later, Roy would curse the childish naivety that made him think he could circumvent the law of equivalent exchange. The foolish idea that he could obtain such unknowable power without paying an equal price. But for all his planning, ambition, and all his effort, here in this moment he wished he could take it all back. The power of flame alchemy had lost its luster in his mind. How would he ever be able to wield the flame proudly and freely, fully knowing the sorrow and pain it was born from?

After a tense moment of silence, Riza turned around completely to face him, shrugging his hands off her shoulders in the process. Roy felt his face heat slightly, but he needn't have worried about his eyes wandering anywhere inappropriate of their own accord. He couldn't have looked anywhere but into her suddenly piercing eyes if he tried. For the second time that day, Roy found himself rooted to the spot, unable to move or speak, caught this time in the gaze of the hawk.

Most people who would come to know Riza Hawkeye, be it professionally, casually, or otherwise, would assume her infamous piercing glare was a trait she picked up in Ishval. The months of endless bloodshed in the scorching, unforgiving desert where nothing could live or thrive, least of all the human spirit, gradually hardening her gaze into steel. Giving it a tangible weight, a sense of power that she would wield to great effect in her military career. But Roy Mustang knew otherwise. The shade of the Hawk's Eyes had always been there, lurking underneath the shy, unassuming demeanor of his master's daughter. He had caught glimpses of it from time to time during the summers he spent at the Hawkeye residence, but now in this moment, he felt the full force thereof. Looking back, Roy thinks this might be the moment when he really began to understand the enigma that is Riza Hawkeye.

Holding him fast with her gaze, she straightened to her full height, holding his coat loosely over her chest with one hand. And for once, the emotion was easy to read in those caramel eyes; anger. "You have to," she said, voice quiet but no less strong. Not a waver to be heard. "You _have_ to, don't you see? You're the only one who can."

" _I can't_!" He exclaimed, voice thick and quaking with emotion. "How could you expect me to-"

But she didn't let him finish, easily silencing him with the sheer raw emotion on her face. She cut him off, raising her voice for the first time since he'd known her. "Don't give me that, you have to! There is no other choice here! You are the only one I can trust with this."

Stopping herself from losing all control, she turned her gaze to the floor for a moment, breathing deeply. After a few breaths, she looked back up into Roy's confused face, determined to make him understand.

"Roy, listen to me," she began, feeling the coming confession too intimate to keep up formalities. "This alchemy on my back is my father's legacy. It's all that's left of him. It was his life's work and he sacrificed _everything_ for it. His time, his attention, his wealth, his home, his family and relationships. His marriage." Here she paused, the first glimpse of tears visible at the corner of her eyes. She blinked them away and continued with only a slight change in her tone.

"In the end, he even sacrificed his sanity and his life for this alchemy. His entire being went into what is on my back. And not just him. I have been sacrificed for flame alchemy as well. My childhood, my innocence, my sense of self worth… And now, the very flesh of my back.

"I have nothing, Roy. My father is dead and he left me with nothing. I can't afford to fix this house, not with the debts he left behind. I'll have to sell it, along with any possessions of worth. I have no family. I have nothing, except the burden of my father's work."

Her voice, which had been steadily rising throughout, cracked at the end. She cleared her throat harshly, frustrated with her own show of weakness. She had promised herself she would hold strong through this. Still, she held Roy's gaze, which was slowly melting from confusion to sadness. Regaining the strength of her conviction she continued.

"My father entrusted me with the secrets of flame alchemy, the culmination of one man's entire existence. But he did so under the belief that I would pass it on to someone who I felt could be trusted with it. I can't do anything with it, Roy. I'm not an alchemist. I couldn't even begin to understand it. In my hands, it will never be used for anything, and all that sacrifice will be for nothing. All of my suffering will be for nothing.

"Roy, please. I'm begging you. You have to take this alchemy. You have to take it, and use it to make your dream a reality. You have to do something good with it. You're the only one I can trust. If you don't do this, then it was all for nothing. Please! Something good has to come from this. _Please_."

Her soul laid bare, Riza continued to lock eyes with Roy, silently imploring him to understand how important this was. As his face twisted with sorrow, an uncomfortable ball of guilt settled in her stomach. This was her burden to bear yes, but only now did she fully realize that she was incapable of bearing it alone. She had shifted part of it onto Roy that day, and without any fair warning at that. But what's done is done. All she could do now was believe in Roy Mustang. That at least, is something she would never have a problem doing. She just hoped that he wouldn't hate her afterwards.

Looking into the eyes of the young woman who had somehow become his first real friend, he could clearly see the pain therein. A pain that had always been there, masked behind polite mannerisms and buried under an endless tide of busywork. Like the underlying shade of the Hawk's Eyes, Roy too had glimpsed this pain many times before. In his first weeks studying under her father, Roy thought Riza to be an odd child. Too quiet to be as young as she was. There was something distinctly adult about her, a maturity that Roy fumbled to understand, even being a few years older than her. Riza Hawkeye always had a way of making him feel like an idiot without even trying. Something that would remain consistent throughout their years together. But as he got to know her, he began to recognize in her a loneliness that he was all too familiar with. They were both outcasts in their own ways. Neither of them had many friends growing up, they both felt the pain of absent parents. It was in this shared loneliness that the two of them first reached out to one another. From then on, Roy tried his best to be a good friend to his master's daughter, in between his studies of course. Master Hawkeye did not approve of his spending too much time with Riza, but Roy could never be sure if said disapproval was a father's over protectiveness, or simply a teacher instructing his student to forego distractions. Regardless, what kind of friend would he be if he denied her now?

Decision made, he softened his gaze and offered her a small smile of reassurance. "Alright."

Her relief was palpable.


	2. Research

At Roy's suggestion they decided to call it a night and start fresh in the morning. Neither of them had any desire to embark on what was sure to be a daunting task with their nerves so frayed. They both excused themselves to their respective rooms to change into more comfortable clothes, Roy returning to the room that had been his during his apprenticeship. He unpacked some of the things from his suitcase that he had only finished packing that morning, as he had no doubt that he'd be here a least a few more days, if not longer. It all depended on just how complexly encoded Master Hawkeye's array really was. From the looks of it, and Roy's own experience with his master's particular way of doing things, he had his work cut out for him. He may even have to make a call and request a bit of an extension on his leave time. Too restless to lie down Roy made his way to the kitchen, taking an alchemy text he'd been studying in preparation for his exam with him. He wasn't surprised when he found Riza, looking much more comfortable in a pair of soft sleep pants and an old shirt, putting the tea kettle on to boil.

She looked up from her task upon his entry and was relieved when he smiled brightly at her. She and Roy had rarely fought in the time they'd know each other. Disagreed yes, debated definitely, even argued but never angrily. She had been worried that the events of the day would leave a strain of tension on their interactions going forward, but Roy's casual body language and easy smile put her at immediate ease. He was still a bit tense, then again so was she, but one look in his eyes and she no longer feared that he harbored any ill feelings towards her. She had gotten to know him very well over the years, and even though he no longer seemed to wear his heart on his sleeve the way he had as a boy, she was pleased to find that she could still read him fairly well. He busied himself with retrieving two cups from the cupboard and setting them on the counter next to the stove, then seated himself at the table, opened a book on alchemy and began to read. The sight was so familiar to her that for a moment, it was almost as if the events of the past two years had never happened. That Roy had never left, her back was never marred, and her father hadn't slowly succumbed to the years of neglect he had subjected his body to in the name of his work. Engrossed in his reading, Riza took the opportunity to observe him. Between the sudden, but not unexpected death of her father and all the confusing feelings that followed, the burial preparations, and her own internal struggle about exactly when and how to reveal the array, she hadn't taken the time to really _look_ at him.

She'd always considered him to be pretty cute, in his own gangly teenaged boy way. When he'd first come to study under her father he was all of 14 years old, lanky and awkward with ears that seemed about two sizes too big for his face. His frequent bouts of clumsiness attested to the fact that his body was growing rapidly and in ways that he couldn't properly acclimate to. She remembered fondly his embarrassment over his cracking, awkwardly pitched voice, and how he refused to come down to breakfast until he'd showered. Seemingly hyper aware of the fact that body odor was now a thing he had to deal with. Originally she hadn't expected him to last very long under her father's strict tutelage. But Roy Mustang, as she would soon learn, was possessed of a dogged determination in everything that he did. Roy surprised her continually during his stay with them. He was intelligent, almost unbelievably so, passionate and filled with an eager desire to learn new things and accomplish impossible goals. And he was surprisingly polite and competent when he wasn't tripping over his own feet.

Riza's childhood had suffered from a severe lack of interaction with children her own age. At school she was often ostracized and ridiculed, both for her own reserved personality and her father's less than stellar reputation in town. Small town gossip was rarely ever kind to people of an odd persuasion and her father, being the only alchemist for miles around as well as a recluse who rarely left his home, was a veritable magnet for such talk. Other the years she'd learned to keep her head down at school, not out of fear but simply because she had no patience for her classmates' bullying. At home she kept herself busy with chores and her studies, or indulged in a book from her father's massive collection. For the most part, Riza Hawkeye spent her time alone. But she'd never really realized how lonely she was, until Roy came into her life and filled the spot in her heart that had been reserved for meaningful human interaction.

Now here he was, sitting at her table as he had so many times in the past. Only instead of the boy he was now a man. While he had matured considerably before he left for the academy, both mentally and physically, the past two years had certainly been kind to him. He'd filled out across his shoulders and grown several inches at least. The youthful awkwardness of his mannerisms was all but gone. His face had finally caught up with his ears giving way to a visage that was quite handsome, if she was being honest with herself. She felt a slight blush creep up on her at the thought and looked back to the kettle for a moment lest he catch her eyeing him. It wouldn't do to dig up an old crush at this point. In his letters he'd told her of his time at the academy, how he'd graduated top of his class and was now officially an officer. And in the past few days he'd gone into more detail about his job and the responsibilities and opportunities that were coming his way. He always spoke of his work with pride although not one born from exalting his own abilities, but rather a pride in the good work he was doing. He believed in the military's mission to protect and serve with his whole heart and was more than willing to dedicate his life to it. She was proud of the man he'd become. But she was equally pleased to see traces of the boy who she'd come to care about so deeply still alive and well in his eyes. She had seen that boy most clearly at her father's gravesite when he spoke to her of his dreams. And even though said dreams seemed impossible, unrealistic or maybe even a little childish to her, he spoke of them with such passion and such conviction that she believed he could make them a reality. At a time in her life when she had very little to believe in she found herself believing in him. At this moment she thinks it just might be enough.

The kettle let out a shrill whistle that startled her from her thoughts and brought Roy's eyes to hers. She smiled at him before setting about preparing the tea. The next hour or so passed in companionable silence as they indulged in the blessedly hot beverage and one another's company. There was little in the way of conversation that night, but then again they had never really needed words to communicate with each other. The two of them seemed to be on the same wavelength almost from the beginning. She had definitely missed this. Later on after they finally retired for the night, she lay in bed gazing sleepily out the window at the stars, and felt a peace settle over her that she had been denied for over a year. Since her father first started to succumb to an illness of both the body and the mind. The hard part she felt, was over. Surely things could only get better from here.

* * *

The early morning dawn brought with it a renewed sense of anticipation and anxiety to the both of them. Breakfast was a quiet affair, although that wasn't uncommon. They discussed the most effective ways to go about the long, arduous task of decoding the secrets on Riza's back. In the end they decided to make a big pile of all her father's relevant books and notes in the floor of the living room and go from there. As Riza brought in the last stack of books, Roy finished arranging himself a work area on the living room rug, in front of the couch. Organizing the books by subject and relevance, making sure he had ample paper and writing utensils within easy reach. Satisfied with his work, he looked up to Riza from his position on the floor, taking note of the air of nervousness in her stance. She hadn't seemed terribly uncomfortable removing her shirt in his presence the day before, and especially not once their conversation had reached a boiling point, but the atmosphere of the morning was quite different and as such she found herself a little on edge.

Roy stood, reaching out his hand to her with a warm smile. "Come on, why don't you lie down on the couch while I look it over? It'll be more comfortable than standing or sitting."

Grateful for his willingness to take the lead on this, she returned his smile and took his hand, allowing him to lead her over the various piles of books to the couch. She sat turned away from him and he politely left the room for a moment to give her privacy. Taking advantage of this moment of solitude, she closed her eyes and took a deep cleansing breath. After a few seconds of contemplation she removed her shirt and lay down on her stomach, bunching up the small throw pillow under her head and waited. Roy returned a few moments later with a light blanket that he draped over the back of the couch in case she got cold later. He maintained eye contact with her as he knelt down on his knees beside the couch, fumbling a bit to find a comfortable position.

"Riza, before we get started I need to ask you something, and I want you to be honest." Her brow knit in confusion and maybe a twinge of nervousness, but she nodded to him anyway. He reached out a hand and laid it lightly on her shoulder, relieved when she didn't flinch away from his touch. "Do you trust me?"

A simple question, but Riza understood all of the underlying meaning behind it. Did she trust him? Did she trust him to remain respectable as she lay here in front of him in a state of undress? Did she trust him to keep the secrets of what was hidden in plain sight across the expanse of her back? Did she trust him with the power of her father's legacy? Did she trust that he was a good man? The question was a loaded one indeed, but her answer was easy and immediate.

"Yes." There wasn't a trace of uncertainty to be found in the word. Roy searched her eyes for only a moment before he nodded, satisfied.

"Thank you," he said, truly humbled by her faith in him, and determined not to betray it. "Just try to relax then. I'm going to take a look at it now, see if I can find a good starting point. It might take me a little while."

"That's fine," she responded, as she adjusted the pillow under her head once more, settling in for the long haul.

"If you need a break or anything, just let me know, alright?" He asked. When she gave him an affirmative nod, he moved his eyes away from her face for the first time since he'd reentered the room and turned to look upon the array.

He'd spent a significant portion of the morning preparing himself for this moment. Trying to get into a headspace where he could view the markings on her back the same way he would any other alchemical array in one of his books. Something to be analyzed and studied. A puzzle to figure out. He had tried to recapture any of the excitement he had initially felt about the prospect of testing his intellect against Master Hawkeye's encoding techniques. He had been marginally successful in this endeavor, but his positive mindset was all but dashed when he saw it again. It was just as beautiful and just as ugly as the first time he'd viewed it. He felt the same anger building up inside him as he watched the red lines shift slightly with the movement of her back as she breathed. He just couldn't wrap his head around it. What could've possessed Master Hawkeye, or anyone for that matter, to do such a thing? This was his daughter, his own flesh and blood. A living, breathing human being. And he had treated her like a glorified notepad. How could he have maintained the steady hand or the concentration necessary to carve such perfect lines and symbols into the flesh of his own child? Even more disturbing; how did he prevent her from moving while he was working? Any movement could've caused a botched line and yet, as Roy ran his eyes over the entirety of her back, there wasn't a single one to be found. Surely she must've been in intense pain. Did he tie her down? Drug her? Was the man completely morally bankrupt? Worse yet, how had Roy been so naïve as to miss such depravity in the man he called teacher? Surely callousness of this caliber doesn't just develop over a short period of time. There must have been signs that he overlooked. For all Master Hawkeye's faults and oddities, Roy would have never imagined him to be capable of such a thing.

When Roy had first met Master Hawkeye, he was more than a little intimidated. Berthold Hawkeye was not a small man by any stretch of the imagination. He cut a tall, broad figure even with his tendency to hunch over when he walked. The deathly pale complexion, long unkempt hair and frequently vacant eyes brought to mind descriptions of monsters in storybooks that Roy had read as a child. He had gotten used to his teacher's dominating presence and odd demeanor eventually, but in retrospect, perhaps his original assessments weren't too far off. Roy learned fairly early on that Riza was very reluctant to discuss her father in any capacity. She would become withdrawn and uncomfortable when Roy brought him up in conversation, so he endeavored to avoid doing so. Her behavior was not all together unexpected. Roy sometimes dreaded being in the man's presence for his lessons, he couldn't imagine having to grow up in the same house with him. But as he looked upon the evidence of his master's greatest sin in the present, Roy's mind went back to the very first time he'd asked Riza about her father. _My father is a very intense man, Mr. Mustang, and he often scares me_. So maybe there had been signs, and he just couldn't see them for what they were. He felt a swell of guilt well up inside him, threatening to choke him. _This is your fault. You shouldn't have left her. You should've seen the signs. You could've done something to prevent this_. Logically he knew there was little he could've actually done, but it didn't stop him from blaming himself.

When Master Hawkeye was dying, his last words to Roy had been an apology and a request to look out for his daughter. Roy was understandably in a state of shock at the time. The man had just suddenly vomited blood and keeled over right in front of him, so any underlying implications were a bit lost on him at the time. At first he had logically assumed that his teacher was having understandable regrets on his death bed, and wanted to make sure someone was going to be there for his daughter the way he never was. Now however, a very dark part of Roy's mind thought instead that even at the end of his life, Berthold Hawkeye's only concern was for his alchemy. Eventually Roy would come to view his former master as a deeply troubled man suffering from some form of madness, although whether or not that madness was his own doing would remain a mystery. But it would take many years, a lot of soul searching, and being faced with his own capacity to commit unspeakable atrocities to reach that point.

Closing his eyes for a moment, Roy attempted to get his mind back on track. He didn't wish to cause Riza anymore discomfort than he had to by stalling while she was exposed. Refocusing himself, he leaned over her prone form and set his mind to the task at hand.

After a few hours of study, constantly going back and forth between Riza's back and the now haphazard stacks of books, Roy was beginning to see the need to rethink his strategy. Riza had been an amazingly good sport so far, but he could tell she was getting tired. Roy himself was already feeling the strain of trying to decipher something so large and so complex on his own. Perhaps it would be a little easier on both on them, he thought, if he had a little help.

Turning from his perusal of the books scattered before him, he looked to Riza who was resting with her eyes closed. "Hey," he said softly, in case she had fallen asleep. She opened her eyes quickly and focused on him attentively, leaving Roy satisfied that he had not disturbed her sleep. "So, as I'm sure you've noticed, this whole process isn't going quite as smoothly as I would like," he said with a slightly sheepish expression, gesturing to the mess he'd made of his previously tidy workspace. Riza smirked slightly, resisting the urge to tease him about his lack of progress. Catching her look, he glared at her good-naturedly before continuing. "But uh, I think there might be a better way to go about doing this, if you don't mind helping me."

This caught her attention, as she couldn't fathom any possible way she could be of any help to him accept to do what she'd already been doing. Which basically amounted to lying on her face. "Of course I'll help, but I don't really see how I can."

Roy smiled encouragingly and began to outline his plan. "This array is extremely detailed and very complex. There are many symbols I don't recognize and phrases that I've never heard of. I have to admit, I wasn't expecting it to be _this_ complicated." Here he paused, giving her a look that dared her to make a sarcastic comment at his expense. Riza bit down on a smile, but otherwise held her tongue. "The only real way for me to go about this, is to look up all these perplexing symbols and words in these books, one at a time. And in the cases where the exact thing I'm looking for isn't in one of these books, and yes that has already happened, I have to settle for the closest approximation I can find and try to puzzle out the true meaning from there. As you can imagine, this is proving to be an extremely tedious process. So I thought maybe you could help me look up some of these symbols. It'll make the basic research part go much quicker, and you won't have to stay in the same position the whole time."

Riza offered him a skeptical look, before questioning, "I would assume that in order for me to do this, you'd have to make copies of these symbols and things for us to reference."

Roy nodded, quickly adding, "Just a few quick sketches that of course will never leave this room and will be destroyed when we finish. I'm not suggesting we take any chances."

Satisfied with that answer, she voiced her next concern. "I don't suppose I have any objections to that, but what makes you think I could be of any help to you? I don't know the first thing about alchemy."

"You don't have to," Roy responded. "All you have to do is help me search through this mountain of books for all these weird phrases. This is all just the prep work. Once we've found them, I'll do all the decoding myself. You can be my desperately needed extra pair of eyes and hands. Besides, you're much less likely than I am to overlook something in all these books."

While still skeptical of her ability to be of any help, his face was so hopeful and his voice so assured she found she really couldn't deny him. Besides, she would like to get up and stretch out for a bit. "Alright, sounds like a plan."

"Great!" He exclaimed, quickly snatching up some paper and a pen. "Just hang on a bit longer while I make some quick copies, then you can finally put your shirt back on," he joked with a chuckle and a wink in her direction. She rolled her eyes and lightly nudged the back of his head with her bare foot, prompting an exaggerated response of offence and a threat to mercilessly tickle that foot if it got near his head again.

"You do and I'll kill you," she said in a dry, humorless tone with a completely straight face. Roy blinked, momentarily startled by the abrupt change in her demeanor, staring blankly at her for a full 5 seconds. She smirked at him in triumph. Grinning, he reached out and ruffled her hair, dissolving into unmanly giggles at the distinctly not amused look on her face.

As Riza attempted to fix the mess he'd made of her hair, Roy took a few moments to calm his laughter and retrieve the writing supplies he'd dropped in his mirth. Smiling at her huff of frustration, he settled a book on the edge of the couch to act as a backing board for the paper, and set to work. Once she had tamed her hair as best she could, Riza turned her head and watched him, amused at the look of determined concentration on his face, his tongue peeking out of his mouth slightly. She had to admit, she was a bit excited at his proposal. While she still doubted her ability to perform this task adequately, she would non-the-less jump at the chance to help out. As a small child she had often found herself intrigued by her father's work. She'd watched him from the doorway of his study as he poured over books and made furious scribbles on notepads, muttering equations to himself. In the early days before her mother passed he even occasionally allowed her into his study while he worked. Later on she had attempted to read some of his alchemy texts, but even as she got older they always seemed to be too far over her head to make anything of them. By the time she was old enough to understand any of it, her mother had long since passed and what relationship she did have with her father had seemingly died as well. Her father no longer indulged her curiosity about his work, instead shooing her out of his study and instructing her not to bother him with anything trivial. His definition of trivial being anything at all. When her father finally decided to take on an apprentice he briefly considered his daughter for the role. But only one lesson was enough to convince him that she was a hopeless case. She had pleaded with him to have patience with her, promised him that she could learn, but he remained unmoved and instead sought out strangers to pass on his knowledge to. Riza initially allowed herself to stew in bitterness over this fact, but eventually she began to believe that she simply lacked the intellect or the ability to be what her father wanted. Instead she tried to make herself useful in whatever way she could. She realizes now that she'd spent her entire childhood senselessly chasing after something that she never had any chance of receiving.

She swallowed, an uncomfortable lump building in her throat. She wanted to help Roy, she really did, but the thought of failing to be of any help, or worse getting in his way or messing up something important, reignited the old pain of her father's rejection from so long ago. Despite her best efforts to remain positive she now found her excitement tainted with a twinge of anxiety. Growing up in an environment devoid of praise, encouragement or even thanks had taken a far heavier toll on Riza than she was able to realize.

As Roy finished up his sketches, stacking them up next to the various notes he'd made so far, Riza quickly schooled her expression and forced herself to focus on the upcoming task. She put on what she thought was a perfectly serviceable smile as Roy turned to speak to her, but despite her efforts his brow instantly furrowed in concern.

"Hey," he said softly, inching toward her a bit more. "What's wrong?"

She swallowed discretely, ensuring the stability of her voice before replying, "Nothing. Are you ready to get started?" His skeptical look told her he didn't buy it, but before he could probe further she elaborated, "Really, Roy. It's nothing. I'm just a little nervous. This is very important and I'm just worried that I'll do something wrong."

While he still wasn't completely convinced she wasn't hiding something, he accepted her explanation for now. Softening his expression and smiling warmly, he placed a hand on her arm. "Don't worry, I promise you couldn't possibly do anything wrong. The only danger in this is that either of us might actually die of boredom." As it so often did, his easy smile and calm voice worked wonders to sooth the worst of her anxiousness. She smiled at him, genuinely this time, and that seemed to satiate his concern for the time being.

"You wanna hand me my shirt?" She asked, pointing backwards to where she'd laid it on the other end of the couch.

This snapped him out of their previous conversation entirely. He retracted his hand as if burned, then quickly and only slightly red-faced, he retrieved the garment and handed it to her. "Uh," he eloquently began. "Do you, uh… want me to, ya know. Leave? While you…"

"No, that won't be necessary," she said, saving him further embarrassment. "Just look the other way for a moment, please." She found that she was much less uncomfortable in this situation with Roy fumbling all over himself in embarrassment.

"Oh, yeah sure. Of course," he said, managing to turn himself around without falling over the stack of books to his left, but only just. Straightening up with a quiet "ahem," he busied himself with looking over the sketches he'd recently made. Not a bad likeness, if he did say so himself.

Once dressed, Riza eased herself off the couch and settled at Roy's right side. After a few seconds she nudged him with her shoulder to pry his attention away from his notes. He looked over at her with a mildly sheepish expression, cleared his throat and said, "Ok. So I've got several sheets of paper here, each with 5 or 6 different symbols and phrases. I'll take half, you take half. Anytime you find a match in one of these books, write down the name of the book and the page number, then go on to the next. If you can't seem to find a particular one anywhere, don't sweat it, just go on and we'll come back to it. Sound good?" She nodded her agreement. "Great," he said. "Let's get to it then. If you have any questions, just ask ok?"

"Ok," she replied. Taking half of the papers from his hand as well as a notepad and pen, she moved over to the other side of the massive piles of books and found a spot to sit. She spent a few moments quietly flipping through the pages of Roy's sketches, carefully eyeing each of the strange symbols and unfamiliar words with a sense of morbid fascination. These things were engraved on her back, after all. She'd attempted to glimpse the tattoo a few times in the bathroom mirror in the past, but the angle made it impossible for her to make out too many details. This was essentially the first time she'd really gotten to see it. Not that it did her much good to do so, she had absolutely no idea what she was looking at.

Glancing up at Roy she was unsurprised to find him hard at work flipping through books with rapt attention. She'd always loved to watch Roy study. Unlike her father, who usually went about his work with an air of clinical detachment, Roy pursued his studies with wide-eyed curiosity and joy. Despite his frequent grumblings that her father was a veritable slave driver, she could tell that he possessed a love of the science of alchemy that her father seemed to lack. Almost as if Roy could see some beauty in it that nobody else could. The thought did occur to her that perhaps her father had pursued his work with the same enthusiasm once upon a time, before the circumstances of life beat it out of him. But she tried not to dwell on this thought too often as she found it deeply disturbing. Both because she had a hard time imaging her father finding joy in anything, and because she secretly feared the day when Roy too would run out of things to be joyful about. Shaking off such thoughts, she restacked the papers in the order in which Roy had given them to her, reached for the first book to her right and opened it.

The next few hours were filled only with the turning of pages, the scratching of pens and the occasional mumbled comment from Roy. They stopped in the early afternoon for a much deserved break and a quick lunch, then it was right back to work. By late afternoon they had narrowed down the number of books that actually contained useful information to a more manageable level, and in the interest of sore backs, they moved their relevant materials to the kitchen table. Riza set out a few candles and lanterns around the kitchen in case they decided to continue working past sunset, while Roy organized the books and notes into easily reachable stacks on the table. Once everything was set, and Roy had asked for the tenth time if she was tired and wanted to stop ( _For the last time, Roy. I'll tell you when I'm tired.)_ , they sat across from one another at the table and picked up where they left off.

They continued to work throughout the day, just the two of them indulging in a peaceful quiet only occasionally broken by conversation. But the silence was comfortable. The kind Roy had only really been able to appreciate in Riza's company. He had never been overly fond of silence. He'd been a bit of a rambunctious child, and was initially stubbornly resistant to Madam's attempts to make him into a proper gentleman. Roy was a passionate person, he liked to discuss and debate, and usually did so quite animatedly. He was prone to raising his voice at the slightest provocation. These are traits he would learn to rein in during his military career, but he could never really rid himself of his distaste for silence. Silence reminded him of waking up in a hospital bed at the age of three, alone and surrounded by stark white with no idea how he had gotten there. Silence brought to mind the long stretch of disquiet that had settled in after his Aunt Chris had informed him that he'd been in an accident and his parents wouldn't be coming home again. Silence was standing in front of the fresh graves of his mother and father, arm still in a sling, all the while thinking that it should definitely be raining right now. Silence was sitting outside the headmaster's office at his school nursing a black eye or a busted nose, trying desperately to mask his tears with anger. _You are entirely too hotheaded Mustang. I don't care what the other boy said about you. One day you're going to have to learn to hold that temper of yours._

Riza Hawkeye had taught him not only the value of silence, but to appreciate it. In her presence he couldn't even think of it as silence. It was quiet. Quiet was warm, peaceful, calming, a place of safety and rest. Silence was cold and stark, the absence of warmth and comfort. And despite what nearly everyone believed about her, Riza Hawkeye was the very definition of warmth and comfort to him. He didn't realize how much he had missed these quiet moments with her during his time at the military academy, but now he wondered how he'd ever be able to go back to his routine without them.


	3. Reconnect

The day wore on and somehow without either of them really noticing, they had managed to work up to the beginnings of sunset. This fact was only really brought to Riza's attention when the light coming in through the kitchen window became so dim that she found herself squinting at the page in front of her. Blinking the strain from her eyes, she looked up to the window and was temporarily taken in by the sight of the sun's last dying rays. She was reminded of a poem she'd once read; something about the majesty of living things being most evident at the start of life and at its end. She wasn't sure what that said about her, thinking such things while watching a sunset. But death, or rather the lingering nature of death, had taken up residence in this house for the last year as she tended to her ailing father, so perhaps such thoughts weren't so strange after all. She thinks the author of that poem had spent far too much time looking at sunsets and surely never witnessed an actual death in person. There was certainly nothing about how her father had died that spoke of any kind of majesty.

She turned from her contemplation of the sun and looked to see if Roy had noticed the sudden lack of light. Unsurprisingly, he hadn't. She watched him in amusement for a few seconds as he leaned forward in his chair, squinting at the fine print of the book in front of him, before picking it up with a small sound of aggravation and bringing it up to his face. For all his vast intelligence and analytical mind, the future Flame Alchemist seemed incapable of realizing that his sudden lack of visual clarity was the fault of the dying light, and not in fact the position of his book. Riza chuckled quietly to herself and wondered if she should just wait this out and see how long it took Roy to become aware of his surroundings. But then she realized she didn't want to be here all night. So instead she stood up, wincing as she stretched muscles that had remained in one position for far too long, and made her way to the counter to light the candles she'd placed there earlier.

Her task complete, she carried two candles over to the table and placed them a safe distance away from the various papers scattered about. Roy blinked in confusion at the sudden light, then looked around in surprise at what was to him, the very sudden onset of dusk. Pushing his chair back and standing up, succumbing to the same muscle strain Riza had experienced earlier, he stretched his arms above his head giving way to a distinct popping sound. This seemed to be his goal as he sighed in contentment and lowered his arms afterward. Glancing at her he smiled gratefully.

"I want to thank you Riza, for being willing to stick it out with me all day. I wouldn't have gotten through a fourth of this stuff on my own. I really am grateful."

"I'm happy to help," she said with a soft smile. She thought for a moment then continued, "We're almost done, you know. There's just a few more symbols to find. Do you want to try to finish this tonight?"

Roy scratched his head and gazed at the notes and books scattered across the table with an expression somewhere between hopeful and exhausted. "I guess we probably should," he said with a sigh. "That way we can start fresh tomorrow. Cause ya know, that was only about half of the symbols that need to researched, we're going to have to do this again tomorrow regardless." He smiled at the sour look that crossed her face at his statement, then stepped around the table to her side. "I really mean it, thank you. You've been invaluable today. And you don't really have to help me tomorrow if you don't want to, although I sure would appreciate it."

She smiled a bit shyly at his proximity, or maybe it was the way the candlelight played across his face, before replying. "You're welcome, Roy. Like I said, I'm more than happy to help you any way I can. And that includes subjecting myself to this unfathomable tedium all over again tomorrow." He snorted out a laugh at that, reiterating his thanks.

After a moment they locked eyes, both seemingly on the cusp of saying something but being unable to get it out. In the interim Roy found himself entranced by the dance of shadows and light cast upon her face by the lantern on the nearby counter. He subconsciously wet his lips and swallowed, mouth suddenly feeling dry.

"Are you going to tell me what was bothering you this morning?" He asked, softly.

She lifted one brow slightly in confusion for a second before recognition dawned on her face. "It was nothing, really," she said, one corner of her mouth lifting at his concern. "It's just that-"

She paused, seemingly thinking better of broaching the subject at all. With a sigh she decided to just be honest with him, as she always had before. "When I was younger I attempted to learn alchemy from my father." Roy's brows lifted in surprise at this, but he refrained from comment until she was finished. "When he first decided to take on an apprentice, I told him I wanted to learn. I'd always been curious about his work. But," she stalled briefly mid sentence, staring off at a point over his shoulder for a moment, then turned her eyes back to his face and continued. "But I had difficulty understanding any of it. It didn't take long for him to lose his patience with me. I tried to make him change his mind, but I shouldn't have pushed him, it just made him angry. I guess I was just nervous about working with alchemy texts again." She smiled reassuringly at him. "I appreciate your concern, but it really doesn't matter."

Frowning slightly, Roy took a step toward her eliminating the remaining distance between them and fixed her with a serious look. "It does matter. He hurt you, and seeing as how it still bothers you, I'm inclined to believe he hurt you deeply. I doubt he even took the time to notice, and I know he didn't bother to apologize."

At this she lowered her eyes to the floor unable to hold his gaze. Reaching out, he gently lifted her face with his fingers under her chin. Once she was looking at him again he spoke. "Riza, I want you to listen to me and I want to you believe what I say. All the things your father has done to you, no matter how big or small or how long ago, none of it was okay. He doesn't get a free pass just because he was troubled or sick or because he's now dead. He was _not_ a good father to you. You were always a good daughter, but he failed you as a father. And none of it was your fault. You didn't do anything to deserve such treatment. A child shouldn't feel like they have to earn their parents' love. None of that was okay Riza, and you are well within your rights to feel hurt. Okay?"

She searched his eyes for a moment, finding a familiar tenderness there, a look she liked to believe he reserved only for her. She nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat and resisting the feel of oncoming tears. There was no reason for her to cry. Roy removed his hand from her chin and softly brushed her bangs away from her eyes. He cupped her face with his palm and gently ran his thumb under the corner of her left eye, catching the small amount of wetness there before it could fall. She turned her head away from his hand and scrubbed at her eye in shame, mumbling something about getting dinner started. Before she could turn away from him he reached out, grasping both her shoulders gently and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. He kept his hold on her loose, giving her every opportunity to pull away if she wanted. After a few seconds of stunned silence, in which she seemed unsure how to process his actions, she returned his embrace and only then did he hug her tightly.

He was warm and solid and familiar and she instantly felt all tension leave her body. She relaxed in his hold and rested her face against his shoulder, allowing herself this moment of comfort. It occurred to her that this was the first real positive physical contact she'd had since she and Roy had hugged their goodbyes at the train station two years ago.

* * *

The next morning Riza woke up feeling better than she had in years. The weight of the world that seemed to have permanently settled itself on her shoulders had lifted, if only slightly, giving way to a lightness in her spirit. The previous night she and Roy had sat down to a modest dinner, that he insisted on helping her cook to repay her for her assistance, equivalent exchange and all that, then finished up the rest of their remaining research. By that time they were both beyond exhausted and retired immediately after cleaning up the kitchen. She'd been so tired in fact, that she had fallen asleep in her clothes from the previous day, face down on top of the covers.

The morning had been a calm and pleasant affair. Over breakfast Roy spoke animatedly about his new friend Hughes that he'd met at the academy and all the various shenanigans they'd gotten up to, as well as all the other things that had been going on in his life lately. He carried most of the conversation, as she would've been hard pressed to speak about anything that had happened in her life in the last few years that wasn't depressing or disturbing, and she didn't wish to ruin either of their good moods. Roy seemed to sense this as he kept his inquiries to a minimum and steered clear of any uncomfortable topics. Riza for her part, was just enjoying listening to him speak. Although she had never considered the quiet to be uncomfortable, there had been far too much of it in this house since he'd left. Funny, how she'd never considered the lack of conversation in her home to be a negative until Roy had come along. After breakfast, and a short stint on the couch as Roy made copies of large parts of the tattoo to be researched, the two of them settled in at the kitchen table amongst stacks of books and papers for another long day.

Thankfully, the atmosphere had improved tremendously since she had first revealed the tattoo to Roy. Any trace of awkwardness had all but faded, the initial lingering tension that spoke of Roy's concealed anger had passed, and the two fell into an easy rhythm as they worked. Conversation came much easier than it had the previous day, with Riza actually providing her fair share thereof. At times throughout the day she almost felt as if she were speaking too much, unused to voicing her thoughts aloud so easily. During the last two years in particular, she found herself retreating further and further into her own solitude; first after the creation of the array, and the emotional fallout that followed, and then while tending to her father's slow physical and mental decline. In the midst of all that, she never really had any opportunity or occasion to speak for herself. She had discovered, to her embarrassment, that she almost didn't remember how to carry on a normal conversation. Thankfully, Roy had always excelled in that area. His uncanny ability to chase away the shadows that clung stubbornly to the corners of this old house, and sometimes followed her outside its confines, had always astounded her. Just like when he'd first come into her life and extended his hand in friendship, his presence now beat back her darker thoughts and made it possible for her to believe in something better, even if only for a short time.

She wasn't sure whether to be relieved or frightened at the way she'd come to rely on him. He wasn't going to stay here forever after all, but regardless of that, one day she would have to learn to deal with her anxieties and apparent depression on her own. She was only now realizing that shutting herself off from the world and focusing entirely on menial tasks did not qualify as dealing with it. The life her father had lead, and the lonely, regretful way he had died, was a painful and frightening example of where this type of thinking would one day lead her, if she allowed it. But that was a contemplation for another time. For now, she had a job to do, and she endeavored to apply her full focus and attention to doing that job, and doing it right.

The comforting atmosphere and easy conversation allowed the day to pass without incident or awkwardness. Lessons learned from the previous day's strain led to a mutual agreement to be more mindful of both physical and mental stress this time around. A break every two hours (standing up and walking around a bit required), and snacks within easy reach on the table at all times were the agreed upon terms. And if they became sidetracked during one of those breaks, ending up sprawled in front of the fireplace deep in conversation, well that too was deemed permissible. Unlike before, when day eventually gave way to night it caught neither of them by surprise, and not feeling nearly as fatigued this time around, they saw no reason to call it quits just yet. The subtle silence that always accompanies the dark brought most of their conversation to a natural halt. The limited reach of candlelight narrowing their focus to the books and pages in front of them and eliminating distractions. Well, _most_ distractions.

While Riza was attending to her work with a diligence that would become legendary during her military career, Roy was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on anything other than the young woman sitting across from him. He wanted to blame it on the subtle change in atmosphere brought about by the transition from day to night, but he knew such things only served to enhance his preexisting attraction to Riza Hawkeye. Looking at her in the low candlelight, concentrating intently on a finding a particularly strange symbol in one of her father's books, it was very easy for Roy to imagine marrying her. He'd never thought himself the marrying type in his younger days, or at least, not until he was much further along in his military career. Being a husband or starting a family had just not been very high on his priority list (although according to Hughes, this was a very bad thing that should be rectified immediately). But he could very easily get down on one knee right now, if he didn't think she'd call him out on his stupidity. And she would, it was one of her favorite pastimes. Roy wasn't ignorant of his feelings for her, despite how awkward and muddled they at times were.

Initially the two of them didn't get on very well. Roy thought she was strange and kind of creepy; he never did get used to her uncanny ability to move through the house completely silently, not to mention rude, as she had rebuffed all of his attempts at conversation. Riza for her part, regarded him with the same cool detachment she reserved for all of her father's students. By that time she was used to having strange men of all ages in her home, and found it in her best interest to ignore them. Roy had been surprised to learn that he was far from Master Hawkeye's first apprentice, but couldn't help being a bit smug when Riza informed him that he was the first to last longer than two weeks. Once past that initial hurdle however, they became friends almost over night, and suddenly it was as if they had always known one another. Even the occasionally awkward moments weren't uncomfortable.

During his stay at the Hawkeye home, Roy found himself spending any and all time not devoted to his studies in Riza's company. And sometimes, when Master Hawkeye was so preoccupied with his research that he left Roy to his own devices, he would take his study materials into the main room where Riza liked to read by the fireplace. And while they did spend a fair amount of time indulging in recreational activities, for the most part being a good friend to Riza entailed helping out with her chores. Lucky for the both of them, Madame Christmas had made sure Roy knew a thing or two about keeping up a house. They cleaned together, cooked together, made trips to town together. She watched in barely concealed amusement as he fumbled his way through things like fishing, woodcutting, and picking apples like the clueless city boy he was. She even let him accompany her on a hunting trip once, and only once. _You're far too loud and clumsy, Mr. Mustang. I'll never catch anything with you around._ She definitely knew how to make him feel like an idiot. But he was always _her_ idiot, so it was alright with him.

In the final years of his apprenticeship, Roy wouldn't deny harboring a bit of a crush on his master's daughter. Although he endeavored not to dwell on such thoughts, convinced that Master Hawkeye could glean them just by looking into his eyes. By that time, Roy was devoting a significant amount of time to studying Riza instead of his alchemy texts. As an alchemist, Roy would always be a scientist at his core, and as such he tended to view everything from the perspective of one. Every situation or person he was presented with was thoroughly observed and analyzed whenever possible. He viewed everything in his life as a puzzle to solve, and Riza Hawkeye was perhaps the biggest puzzle of them all. In retrospect Roy realizes that all his silent observations of Riza might have been just a little on the creepy side, but in his teenaged awkwardness it was all he was capable of. As unbelievable as it may seem, there was a time when Roy Mustang was not so smooth with the ladies. Quite the opposite, in fact.

Regrettably he could never be too sure whether said crush was entirely reciprocated. Although he'd learned to understand Riza's subtle body language and restrained facial expressions over the years, she was still frustratingly difficult to read at times. On the other hand, he was sure his emotions were an open book to her, although certainly not intentionally. Sometimes all she had to do was look at him a certain way and he'd suddenly find himself struck dumb, unable to remember what he'd been saying. If Roy had a cenz for every time he'd done something embarrassing in front of her; dropping something that he'd had a firm grasp on just moments before, banging his knee on a table, overlooking something right in front of his face, tripping up the stairs (always up, never down), he could just buy the entire military and do with it as he pleased.

When he'd made the fatal mistake of accidentally divulging his intention to join the military to Master Hawkeye, he had immediately been all but banished from the Hawkeye home. He'd had to leave quickly, with promises to write to Riza, and that it definitely wouldn't be the last time they saw each other. He'd been beyond depressed and angry. Not only had he destroyed any chance he may have had of learning flame alchemy, but he was losing his best friend too. They'd said their goodbyes under an old shade tree that they had frequently retreated to over the years. He'd kissed her, and somehow managed to do so without bumping her nose or saying something stupid afterwards. She's smiled at him and although it may have just been the sun, he swears her cheeks had filled with color, and in that moment he was content. Even if everything else he'd tried to accomplish here ended up being for nothing, meeting Riza Hawkeye had been worth it. She'd walked him to the train station despite his protests, it was a long walk back after all. He'd leaned out the window and waved to her until he could no longer see her.

Shortly after returning to Central, he'd enrolled in the military academy and from then on his days were filled with intense study and equally intense training, to the point where he often neglected to write Riza as frequently as he should've. He didn't forget about her, on the contrary she was often at the center of his thoughts at night when everything was quiet, but Roy Mustang had a goal to accomplish and it was time to get serious. He finished his training and entered into service as an officer, feeling like he was well on his way, even lacking flame alchemy. With more time to himself, he resumed his letter writing, eagerly checking for her responses in the mail. After only a few months of exchanging letters, he'd laid out an additional plan for his future. He would attempt to pass the State Alchemy exam without flame alchemy, but even if he failed he would work hard to establish his career as a soldier and rise to a respectable rank. He would buy himself a nice apartment, put back some money and establish some stability. Then a few years down the road, he would return to the Hawkeye residence. He would make one last formal plea to Master Hawkeye for the honor of learning flame alchemy, and be very unwilling to take no for an answer this time. Regardless of the outcome, he would then ask Riza to be his wife. He would accomplish his dream with her by his side. He'd come to a place where he couldn't really imagine it any other way. Hughes would be delighted, he was sure.

In the present, he'd come back to his master's house much earlier than he'd planned. He was a soldier yes, but that was about it. He'd yet to make a real name for himself, he hadn't taken the State Alchemy exam, he was still living on base. He was not yet in a position where he felt he could offer her everything she deserved. After the revelations of the last few days, he wasn't sure he ever would be.

* * *

The next day passed in a manner much the same until finally, in the wee hours of the morning, three days after they had initially began, Riza found the last archaic symbol in one of her father's ancient, moth-eaten books. At the time she'd been looking for the same symbol for the past four hours, having enlisted Roy's help in her endeavor once he'd finished his own list. The hour had been late even then, but neither of them wanted to stop when they were so close to their goal. When she did finally locate the object of her frustrations, she initially passed right over it assuming that, like all the other hundreds and hundreds of symbols her eyes had skimmed over in the last few hours, this wasn't it. She'd done a proverbial double take in shock at the page before her, not quite believing that this nightmare of tedium might actually be over. After taking a few seconds to process what her eyes were seeing, double and then triple checking to make sure she had indeed found it, she slowly picked up her pen and marked the relevant information next to the symbol in question, as she had done many times in the past few days. Work finished, she sat the pen back in its place, leaned back in her chair and stared at the now finished list in front of her.

Still in a slight state of shock, she looked up to where Roy was sitting hunched over the table across from her, flipping through the pages of three different books simultaneously with tired eyes and a frown of aggravation permanently etched on his face. She grinned widely, perhaps a bit punch drunk from such a long day and the late hour, and opened her mouth to inform Roy of her discovery, only to find her throat far too dry to get the words out. Frowning at the realization that she had neglected to properly hydrate during the night, she took a sip from a glass of water that had been sitting far to her right. Vocal cords now restored to proper working order, she cleared her throat and tried again.

"Roy," she said. When her statement prompted no response from him, she repeated herself louder. " _Roy_." He looked up at her, a bit startled, seemingly confused for a moment about where he was. Blinking the tiredness from his eyes, he focused the remainder of his dwindling capacity for attention on her. Once he was looking her in the eye, she allowed a silly grin to cross her face again.

"Roy, I… I found it. The last one. _I found it_." Some part of her addled brain realized she wasn't articulating herself very well, but caught in a state somewhere between exhausted and elated, she found she didn't much care.

Roy blinked slowly at her several times, apparently having as much trouble processing this bit of information as she had. When realization did sink in, his tired, aggravated expression slowly morphed into one of shock, and then finally, sheer joy. The same silly, slightly manic grin Riza sported appearing on his own face, Roy spoke in a voice tinged in slight awe. "You… you found it? You found it. The last symbol. We're… we're done?" She nodded vigorously at him, smile still in place, too happy to care how silly she must look.

A few seconds passed in silence before Roy suddenly leapt from his seat, knocking his chair over onto the floor with a loud clang that shattered the quiet that had permeated the Hawkeye home for the majority of the day. Startling Riza out of her own chair, Roy half ran/half jumped over the table to her side, knocking several books over in the process, and scooped her up in his arms in one swift movement, swinging her around with a cry of elation. With little choice otherwise, Riza clung to him in surprise, but the excitement and relief of the moment was infectious, and at such a late hour she found herself swept up in it, laughing along with him. After a few moments of spinning, Roy crushed her to him in a full body hug, and quite caught up in the moment himself, kissed her fiercely on the side of her mouth. Whether or not his aim was off in his muddled state, was anyone's guess.

Before Riza could properly react to his actions, Roy had already sat her feet back on the floor and turned to snatch up the final finished list of research, running his eyes up and down the page confirming that, yes, every single item had a book name and page number scribbled next to it. Fumbling over the stacks of books on the table, he picked up the other papers Riza had researched, then reached across to retrieve his own. Holding the finished stack of papers in his slightly trembling hands, he let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. Realizing that he was letting sleep deprivation get the best of him, he took a moment to compose himself before turning to Riza with a slightly less deranged smile. She was a right sight, to be honest. Eyes red and slightly puffy from strain, short hair sticking up in odd directions, mussed from running her hands through it in annoyance throughout the night, expression tired but relieved, directing a crooked half smile his way as she leaned her hip against the table. Roy had never seen anyone more beautiful.

"We did it," he said, proudly. "Thank you, Riza. Really. I'll never be able to thank you enough, there is no way I could've done this on my own. At least, not without loosing my mind."

She nodded slightly in agreement with his statement, now fully content in the knowledge that any lingering trace of her childhood curiosity about alchemy had been thoroughly sated. Riza had always considered herself to be a fairly patient person, but even she had her limits. Alchemy, she decided, was definitely _not_ her forte. She could swear her brain was actually throbbing inside her skull from overuse. She certainly didn't envy Roy his upcoming task of deciphering all those ridiculous scribbles they'd spent three days searching for. She felt a great sense of relief that she would be unable to assist him properly in doing so, and therefore free from the responsibility. Relief tainted with only a faint twinge of guilt.

Rubbing her temples in an attempt to alleviate the aforementioned throbbing, she replied, "I'm sure you could've done it without me, although not in such a short amount of time, and definitely not as efficiently." He scoffed sarcastically at that, but found he couldn't refute her statement. "Either way, you're welcome. I can't exactly say it was a pleasure though."

He laughed outright at that, pinching the bridge of his nose to stave off his own pounding headache. A fruitless gesture. "Neither can I. I think we may have pushed it a little too much today. We should've quit hours ago and put this off till tomorrow."

Glancing into the other room, he squinted in the dim light at a clock handing on the wall, frowning when he was able to make out the exact time. "Yeah, definitely should've stopped a long time ago," he muttered to himself. Turning back to her, he continued in a normal tone. "But, I am immensely relieved that all this monotonous searching is over." He heaved a massive sigh, seemingly purging himself of the accumulated stress of the day. "Now I can finally get started on the fun stuff."

Through her exhaustion and now furious headache, she couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. "Well, I leave that in your very capable hands. I think I'll spend all day tomorrow sleeping, thank you."

"That's not a bad idea," Roy replied, rubbing his chin in thought, and was briefly startled at the feel of stubble against his fingers. They really had been at this a long time. "Maybe I'll call and request for an extension of leave time. A few extra days to catch up on my sleep." He was only half joking at this point.

They stood in silence for a few moments. The brief adrenaline burst from their excitement had faded, leaving them both on the verge of an inevitable crash. Roy watched as Riza unsuccessfully attempted to conceal a jaw cracking yawn. She swayed slightly on her feet when she pushed off of the table she'd been leaning against.

"Hey," he started. She looked up at him with tired eyes, and he smiled tenderly at her. "Let's go to bed and worry about cleaning this up later."

The fact that she agreed to let the mess lie for now was testament to just how exhausted she really was.


End file.
